


A Suit of Armour

by Shush_MummyWriting



Series: Lost Time [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:53:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shush_MummyWriting/pseuds/Shush_MummyWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has trouble sleeping too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Suit of Armour

Clint tried so hard to forget his nightmares. During the day, time had done its job, the pain no longer sharp like glass in the pit of his stomach, just a dull ache, an addition to all the other scars his body held. 

Nights though were a bitch.

He would struggle over and over again. Feeling his body moving, feeling again the scream locked in his throat. Seeing his hands on his best friend, trying to kill her. Knowing too that he should be somewhere else, close but not here. Knowing that he should have had his back. And because he wasn’t there, when he needed him...... he woke to a hollow space inside his chest.

He supposes that’s irony.

The nightmares were always more frequent in large cities, surrounded as he would be by all those men in their white shirts and dark suits. So he didn’t care where SHIELD sent him – Iceland, Cuba, Timbuktu - so long as it was....away. 

The less Pysch knew, the better.

Now he was back, in New York no less. Walking down the street, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, eyes constantly checking, cataloguing features. Two years and he couldn’t help it, he never stopped looking for a match that he knew he wasn’t going to find. Almost identical suits, as if they were a suit of armour you wore to do battle in the corporate world. That one had the height right but the shoulders were too narrow. That one had the hair colour but was too tall. That one had the walk but was too heavy.

That one......

His body stopped moving before his mind had finished processing what his eyes had seen. Just a glimpse and he was stuck, slowly turning his head to take a better look to his left. Just down the alley he had been crossing, stood a man in a dark suit.

Clint had thought he had a clear memory of that smile. That little quirk to the mouth, that warmth that reached his eyes, that look he knew was just for him.

He was wrong. 

Because there is was, in all its glory. Clint could only whisper his name.

“Phil”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the reponse to A Delicate Instrument. That work was very strange and seemed to leap down onto the page all by itself. This took more work, so let me know what you think. All constructive criticism is most welcome.


End file.
